Hannibal and Murdoc
by PyramidHead2012
Summary: A story about how Murdoc and Hannibal growing up in their abusive childhood home, all the way up to when Murdoc is famous. Mature Warning, sexual mentions, mentioned drug abuse, mentioned alcoholism, child abuse, and mentions of self harm. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE ARE TRIGGERS.
1. Prolouge

A little brother? A seven year old Hannibal Niccals stared down at the squirming baby in the basket on the floor in front of him. He had to admit, the baby was cute with his round, chubby face and little hands. But Hannibal didn't get why his father would even take in a second child, even if it did look like him. "Daddy?" Hannibal questioned, looking up at his father, Jacob Sebastian Niccals. (Or Sebastian Jacob, depending on who you asked.) Jacob looked down at his son and raised an eyebrow. "Wot?"

"What are you gonna call him?"

Jacob shrugged. He didn't know. He wasn't good with names, not in the slightest. He'd not named Hannibal, that was the boy's mother. Based on the baby's eyes, he and Hannibal had the same mother, making them full blood brothers. "Why don't you name him, boy?" he suggested, busying himself with opening a bottle of whiskey. He was a drunk and he knew it. He knew being drunk made him an aggressive, pissed off, abusive asshole. But what would Hannibal do? Call the cops? The seven year old child barely knew how to read, let alone dial a phone.

Hannibal looked backed down at the sniffling baby. He reached up and wiped the tears off the infant's face. "Murdoc." Jacob looked over at his son. "Huh?"

"I'm gonna call him Murdoc."

Jacob snorted and shrugged. Murdoc was a decent name for the ugly little infant he was now doomed to call his son. Of course being unhappy about this was likely the alcohol talking, seeing as he'd actually been happy to find out Hannibal had been his son.

Murdoc cooed and held his arms out to Hannibal, making the older boy smile and pick him up. He already liked this little baby. "I'll take care of him for you, Daddy." he said, bouncing Murdoc a little bit. Jacob nodded and went to sit at the dinging room table. Murdoc... Perhaps this kid could help him make money, when he got older of course. But he'd likely be more useful than Hannibal. Hannibal actually refused to do a lot of things, and that was only because he'd been raised partly by his mother. But Murdoc... He'd know nothing else. He'd have to do what Jacob said. Jacob grinned and drank some more whiskey.

Meanwhile, Hannibal had taken Murdoc into his room and was playing with the baby, successfully making him laugh. Murdoc was a sweet little baby, if Hannibal was being honest. He was chubby, giggly, and smiley. It was a nice change from their father's harshness. Murdoc giggled and put his tiny hands on his big brother's face. Though he couldn't really express it, he was happy to have someone to play with.

And so was Hannibal.


	2. Hannibal's World and Murdoc's Love

Hannibal stared as his five year old little brother, Murdoc, cried in the corner of the withered and dead garden next to their decrepit home. Murdoc had disappointed their father again and had gotten punished for it. He wanted to go Murdoc and hug him, comfort him, but he couldn't risk getting a beating himself. He had people already telling him day and nigh that he was being just as cruel as his father. That as an older brother, it was his job to love and protect little Murdoc.

But he couldn't bring himself to risk his father's wrath for the sake of his little brother. And yet... He wanted to. Murdoc had known his older brother to be loving for the first few years of his life, but then they started to pull apart. Hannibal began to learn exactly how their father worked. Sober, Jacob was sad, depressed, and had no interaction with anyone. When Jacob was sober, he had no motivation to do anything. He could barely dress himself sober, and he could only manage to cook eggs for his sons.

So, he drank. And when Jacob was drunk, he was mean and abusive. Drunk, he could go to work, dress himself, and make food and even laugh. Drunk... He had enough energy to beat his sons when they pissed him off.

Hannibal gasped as his father's hand rested on his shoulder. "P-pop!" he stuttered out, looking up at his father, who looked sad... He was sober. "I hurt him again... Didn't I?" Hannibal could only nod and watch as Jacob went over to Murdoc, who whimpered and tried to get away from the older.

Jacob flinched as Murdoc screeched and flailed. He wasn't one to be upset easy when sober, but any parent would feel absolutely hurt if their child was afraid of them. And for Jacob, he had two sons who were afraid of him. They watched what they said, they didn't come out of their rooms unless they had chores or they were told to. This all just made Jacob drink more. It's all he knew.

His mother was a drunk and abusive, he knew nothing else.

Jacob went back to the house and locked himself in his room, pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

Hannibal ended up going back to his room as well, not bothering to check and see if Murdoc was going to come back inside for the night.

* * *

><p>The next day, breakfast was nothing but burned toast.<p>

Hannibal stared at Jacob as the man went about breaking things and yelling about nothing. He was used to this after twelve years of living in the house with Jacob. Murdoc on the other hand, was scared. He wasn't used to Jacob being like that, and he certainly wasn't used to Hannibal being so... Cut off.

Despite being only five years old, Murdoc could figure people out pretty quick. And his brother was no exception. He remembered Hannibal being sweet and nice to him. He remembered playing with the older boy. The last time they played together, was when Murdoc was three. Over two years, Hannibal started to treat Murdoc like an annoyance, making the younger boy sad.

"Hannibal, git yer things and git ta school." Hannibal nodded and grabbed his back pack, hurrying out of the house, nearly tripping on some of the junk scattered about. Murdoc swallowed nervously. Hannibal was in school, leaving him alone with their father. Despite being drunk pretty much 24/7, Jacob knew he couldn't leave his youngest child alone, so he'd usually take the boy to work with him, then to the bar after work, then they'd get home, Hannibal would be doing home work or cleaning, and then they'd eat dinner Hannibal had made, then they'd go to bed.

That's was their routine. And it hadn't been broken for five years.

Murdoc slid off his chair and slid on his little shoes and shuffled over to his father as the man gathered his things for work. They never really spoke to one another. Jacob only spoke to Murdoc to answer one of the child's questions or to yell at him. Murdoc only ever asked his father questions or begged if he was afraid of his father.

Jacob set his top hat on his head and walked out the door, Murdoc close at his heels. Jacob, when drunk and sometimes when he was sober, saw Murdoc as nothing more than a chubby little money maker. Murdoc was the perfect, chubby little kid that everyone loved. They loved to watch Murdoc fumble around and play. And Sebastian got money.

Murdoc toddled behind his father, doing his best to keep up. He was scared of his father, but he admired the man. He admired how Jacob didn't care what the world thought. He loved his father, to be honest, as most children should.

Jacob knew his son respected and loved him, but he didn't want the kid to. He wanted to have Murdoc hate him, that way neither of them felt hurt when they fought.


	3. Our Mother Hiding in Father's Trash

Fourteen years of bullshit. Fourteen years of abuse and suffering drove Hannibal to drinking, just like his father. There weren't really any rules in the Niccals house hold, so Hannibal did what he wanted. Jacob pretty much ignored his older son at this point, but Murdoc, at seven, was still a target for their father's abuse and rage. Hannibal flinched as a vase in the living broke, followed by Murdoc's loud yelp of pain. Hannibal's heart ached as he listened to Murdoc being beaten.

It hurt like nothing else. But he wouldn't do anything. He'd just be his father and drown any doubt, worries, and concerns in booze and cigarettes. Hannibal picked up a pair of scissors and started to cut his hair. It had gotten too long for his taste and they rarely had scissors in the house. Luckily, his father had been sober enough to consider buying scissors and finally did.

The only agreement though was that Hannibal was the only one who had access to them. He'd forbidden his father from having any sort of sharp object to hurt them with. And since Murdoc was only seven, Hannibal was in charge of any and all pointy objects of stabbiness and death.

Hannibal finished cutting his hair and sipped his whiskey. He loved whiskey above any other alcohol, well besides jager. "Whoa! Murdoc!" Hannibal growled and glared down at his younger brother, who was hugging his leg. Murdoc only stared up at his older brother with big, watery eyes.

Despite the watery almost cuteness of Murdoc's eyes, Hannibal could see they were hardening, becoming cold and empty, just like his own and their father's. He was seven for Hell's sake! He shouldn't be getting the eyes of an emotionally cut off abuser! Hannibal looked up as Jacob ran in, hair a mess and eyes wild. "Hannibal, hand ovah the boy, or I kick yer arse too!" Hannibal rolled his dark eyes and handed his father the whiskey bottle. "I'll handle the kid." he grumbled. "You go drink and take a fucking nap."

Jacob was about to hit his oldest, when a nap and booze sounded like a really good idea. He deserved a nap after the shit he'd already dealt with that day at work. Working in an undertaker shop could be hard work, shockingly enough.

Jacob swiped the bottle and sauntered off to the living room, not caring what Hannibal did to Murdoc at that point.

Hannibal snatched up the sniffling boy and carried him upstairs to the younger's room, stepping over piles of garbage. You wouldn't guess it from looking at the outside of the house, but Jacob Sebastian Niccals was a trash hoarder. Trash was piled to the ceiling and the way through it all was a small pathway. And on that path way, you had to watch out for rats and mice.

Rats, mice, termites, cockroaches and a many other disgusting creatures had made their homes in the piles of nasty garbage. The only thing that covered the smell of trash and rat and mice feces was the sent of booze and cigarettes. Being smokers, Hannibal and Jacob just couldn't smell it any more, and Murdoc had just learned to ignore the scent.

Hannibal dumped Murdoc onto the bed and turned to leave, when Murdoc asked something that made Hannibal freeze. " Why does Dad hurt us?" Hannibal clenched his fists, nails digging into the palms, making them bleed. "I don't know." he snarled. "Now shut up and go the fuck to sleep. I've got home work to do." He slammed the door, making several things in the hall fall and break. One was the picture of Jacob's wife and the boys's mother, Selma. Hannibal picked up the picture. She been a sweet woman who loved singing.

But she was always more interested in her own fame and her ego than her sons. She'd run off then dumped Murdoc off at the house. When Murdoc as was about three, it was learned that Selma's career had sunk and she'd killed herself by drug over dose. Not that Murdoc needed to know all that. Not now at least.

Hannibal chucked the picture and went into his own room, wanting to do his home work. He only did it to take his mind off his shitty home life. It was something to do besides drugs.


End file.
